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Topic: Back in the Day (Chapter I) (Read 72206 times)

Geography and whatnot. This isnt meant to be awe-inspiring or anything, just some paint on an empty canvas. The idea being, to give you lots and lots of choices and options.

Part I (Part II will be a short lead-in paragraph, gluing you all together, and we're off!)

The Age of Heroes, Year of the Bloody Boil, Month of the Burning Sun.

The Western Reaches, hinterlands of a far-flung, dying Empire, the town of Ganse:

A mid-sized town of few prospects and even fewer hopes, once well known for the nearby Phosphorus Mines, Ganse is now in the midst of downward slide into obscurity. A population of laborers and craftsman, peppered with retired miners and occasional mercenaries, fewer than five thousand souls call Ganse home. The mines are no more, ever since the horrid “accident” a decade ago. A massive and catastrophic explosion and cave-in, one the townsfolk are loath to discuss to this very day, had claimed upwards of a thousand lives, and effectively ended Ganse reign as a place to get the mysterious multi-colored substance. The tunnels and equipment were destroyed, and no one has yet set foot inside the collapsed mountain.

There are two inns, two taverns, and one hostel in Ganse.

The Harpy’s Kettle is somewhat shanty but otherwise an inn, like any other.

The other inn has no name strangely, and not much business.

Koron’s is a popular tavern, featuring most of the retired miners, or what is left of them, and their kin.

Several standard shops litter the bleak streets, along with a few, now innocuous, mining supply stores. Horses are are few about town, and even fewer travelers find their way here. A border town if there ever was one.

Thirty miles west and south of Ganse is the sea. No towns or cities dot its desolate shores, as the cliff-coast there is treacherous for nearly two hundred miles. Between Ganse and the sea is a stretch of rather inhospitable, dry land. Crags and jutting stones dot the occasionally green, but mostly brown and gray landscape, travelers on horseback are few, and dangers are many, particularly of the bandit variety.

Though Ganse has a wall and a standing city-guard, they know long-distance assaults against countless brigands are futile. Ganse guards itself well, but cares naught what happens outside its walls.

To the north is more broken terrain, as if an army of giant children had torn up the landscape for many miles around. Eventually, the Great Escarpment can be reached, a thousand feet high and stretching a hundred and fifty miles across, separating the land like a scar. It is said the famed Waterfall of Madness can be found here, an ancient dwarven tomb, said to lie deep below. If the Great Escarpment is descended, the verdant rolling hills of Cazulun come into view, a land of wealthy city-states and civilized folk. But one must beware the dreaded creature known as the Nucklevee, if negotiating the Great Escarpment! It is said to dwell in some deep mountain lake, and claims all of the surrounding land as its territory. Travelers have heard countless tales of this daemon, but no true account exists as to what it may look like, or what in fact, its inherent nature is.

East of Ganse, are the Holubuska Hills and the flax and wheat fields of the Kinless, a far-flung, semi-nomadic, loosely related group of people, who pay homage to no liege, and long ignored by the distant Empire, thrive among the mists and laurel forests of the hills and prairies. They are known for their wine and song, and often traveling caravans, freak shows, and circuses can be found meandering among the hills like giant caterpillars. A land of folklore and legend, though lately bandits in disturbing numbers have been known to boldly rob and pillage, and worse...gnolls.

Past this land are the Roads to Eternity, a dramatically named border country, wherein can be found literal crossroads of ancient, paved roads and nearby towns and villages. For the first time, a hundred leagues east of Ganse, signs of the Empire’s taint abound here. Farther east can be found the Monoliths, a gray, impenetrable range of mountains, and on both sides of these formidable, giant, stone teeth, stretches out the lazy Empire proper, with its famous cities such as Andrakar and Oernis, and stranger ones, such as Nimz and Gaberlunz.

South of Ganse, the Empire holds even less sway than it does in and around Ganse. A land of rain and forest, fields of wildflowers and broken fog-enshrouded hills, it is said it rains here five out of every seven days. For several hundred miles this mystical land continues on until it too, comes upon the sea. Here sits Ssembra, an opulent, exotic city of alabaster onion domes, and porphyry minarets. This great city is still controlled by the Empire, though all the people revere the mysterious Larnassa, the Split-Lipped Queen, and the Empire’s local proxy ruler. In this port, ships from hundreds of different kingdoms and lands visit throughout the year, and the city is at once, both ancient and cosmopolitan.

If you havent guessed yet, the game begins in Ganse. Part II, and a few brief PMs, will explain how you got here, and where you came from (recently). And then its your turns!

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Goynas Teff the proprietor thought to himself as he turned the ox on its spit, and surveyed his clientele, a stupid grin on his face. He had remembered to bring over plenty of ale to the guard barracks earlier in the day, after he had spied so many strangers approaching Ganse’s Wall.

The guards will be deep in their cups by now…heheh. Won’t have the wits be coming around here, to tell old Goynas the Kettle is “over capacity” again. Hah! Am I the only innkeeper in the world, who had to get the city guard drunk to have some customers? Well, be d**n to them! Tonight, Ol’ Goynas was going to make some coin! Absent-mindedly he eyed the row of billy-clubs and mallets hanging in a long proud row on his wall.

Percy was on the prowl. The innocent child approached the strange man everyone else seemed to be afraid of and smiled. Not at the man himself, for the strangers heavily scarred face was not one to smile at, but at all the pretty glass shingles shimmering against the hearth fires’ light, which studded and clung to the man’s boiled leather. At least that is what Percy thought it was. Who could be sure? And more importantly what kind of man clad himself in glass? Most of the other patrons in the inn were instead eyeing the stranger’s bizarre weapons. Percy had never seen anything like them in all his travels. But he decided to be different. He wanted to speak with this odd warrior.

“Are ye a lord then, me’lord, from some far off kingdom? I’m Percy. I’m only eleven, but my pa said I could go see the Glass Man.” He smiled.

Kerra pretended she didn’t notice anyone. She pretended she didn’t notice the peculiar man in the bright green cloak in the corner. What was he doing, talking to himself? She couldn’t be sure, but she sure knew she didn’t like his pale look when she first spied him.

She also pretended to not notice the small, but sharp-looking little man, clad in apparently some kind of uniform, ne she didn’t recognize, and a wide-brimmed hat. . That was the one inquiring where he could find the guard barracks. All those “who’s in charge here?” type of questions. Hrmmph. She didn’t like him. Where the hell they all come from tonight? There was another one…another funny hat, and a whip! Kind of cute too, working the room pretty good! He’s been tellin’ some story to that strapping young priest, *a bit righteous looking that one* for the last half hour, and everyone else is listening in too. That is one huge sword though. Stop it, she told herself. You have work to do. Well, they’ll probably say we’re “over capacity” again, and then no more o’ the regulars will be allowed in. Shame. Where were those guards? They should have been here by now.

Noyle checked the floor of the inn. Packed earth and wood. No metal shingles. He began counting the heads. Seventeen, eighteen, twenty…What was that sound?

Ever since the mines…collapsed ten years ago, Noyle’s job was to check all establishments for safety. The lands around Ganse were riddled with pitfalls, forgotten tunnels, and sinkholes. The earth below was like that cheese Anribar monks sold occasionally about town. Three centuries of mining did that to a town. Like a worm-ridden apple, the very ground they were all living on. Noyle lost count and started over.

Noyle whirled in surprise suddenly as the Harpy’s Kettle door burst open, and a woman dressed in black with hair the color of spun platinum, as least that would be how he would remember her, staggered in with a look of morbid disgust and desperation. Stains shone in the light on her dark attire. Noyle guessed it would be blood. He stared. A few others did as well. The look in her eyes was unforgettable, as she stared down any comer.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Talia made straight for the bar, ignoring the people staring at her for the moment. "Whatever the strongest thing is you have," she ordered. "I haven't got any money, but I surely do need it." She looked around the room. Well, surely some one here would be able to help. "I need some people to help me track down a group of bandits that are probably based somewhere near here. I think they're working with gnolls, too. But I can't hunt them down by myself."

Aerex glanced up at the woman briefly. "Gnolls?" he muttered curiously.

"Look, kid," the fair-hair man snapped. "I'm just passin' through. I don't know nothin' about no guards." He took a deep gulp of his drink, some sour-smelling concotion. "'Sides," he added under his breath, "this town ain't worth havin' guards fer anyway. Nothin' around here since the mine's gone."

Aerex sighed. "Alright. Thanks anyway." He slipped a pair of bronze pennies on the table and walked to the bar, leaning on it a few feet away from the dark-skinned woman.

"Make it two," he nodded to the barkeep. Aerex looked at the woman. Aside from the gore staining her clothes, she was quite fetching.

Get your head in the game, Matare, his conscience warned. "Bandits, eh?" he asked the woman as the barkeep placed two tall, narrow glasses before them. Aerex dropped a few coppers on the bar, which the keep quickly picked up. "I might be of some service, if you're looking to arrest them."

Aerex smirked involuntarily. "Vengence, eh?" He sipped his drink--Dragon Spit, it was called--and winced as the it burned down his throat. "Well, that's not normally my game, but justice is justice, I reckon." He adjusted the brim of his hat. "Who were these bandits? What'd they do?'

Dujek sat in the corner, staring at the thing on the spit. He didn't have a clue what it was, besides big, maybe a cow, or an aurach. What ever the thing was it smelled d##m good. Gods, when was the last time he'd seen meat that wasn't months dead? Bleh. Not enough money to get a drink and a meal, even though he knew he could really use one.

Looking up when the woman walked in, Dujek quietly returned to his previous, pensive state. Hmm, I wonder what spices they're using in that meat. Almost smells lik...

"I need some people to help me track down a group of bandits"

That lady again. Hmm, she doesn't look like she can pay, but if the bandits are stupid enough to let someone like her get away, than they might just sleep with their spoils. Nice and easy to take, if I help. Well, what reasons to I have to stay? Pretty soon people'll start sharpening up their pitchforks, and it's high time to move on anyway. By the time Dujek made it up there through the crowds, the Shinies guy seemed to have finished whatever talk they'd had.

Looking at the woman he asked, "How much can you pay? You don't look like some nobleman's daughter, and if anything you look broke. But, despite any lack of money you're experiencing right now, I'm sure you're gonna get enough to pay me, right?"

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

"I don't know who they are. Just a group of bandits, although I'll recognize them again. And like I said, they seemed to be working with gnolls, as disgusting as that sounds, so they should be fairly easy to find by the smell alone." She stretched, briefly touching her fans to make sure they were still there. "They slaughtered my whole family," she said tightly. "Caravan Master Konos would have given them what valuables we had, but they killed just about every one any way."

As the other fellow approached, she looked at him appraisingly. There was something a bit odd... "I don't have the slightest bit of money. But since I'm not after these people for the money, you can have your pick of whatever shinies they have if you help me."

Aerex eyed the newcomer. His cloak was certainly of fine quality, but something about him... well, stunk.

"Gnolls..." He squinted, thinking of the archives at the Capitol Headquarters. "You know, I think there's a gang called Jervoe's Tribe that works with gnolls. I'm not sure if they operate around these parts, but it could be them."

___Aah... it had been a long day of walking to finish the last leg of his journey and make it to this town. Dispite how busy this tavern was, Moruz had procured a moderate sized table for himself - The other patrons of this establishment seemed wary of him. No matter. Resting on the otherwise empty table was a large spear-like object, glass barbs lining one edge of it, and an unrolled leather strip, inside which was some two-dozen similar barbs. He slipped a thick leather glove over his right hand, and carefully fingered in the groove of the outlandish weapon, plucking out the base of a shattered glass spike before taking a replacement from the leather roll and clicking it into the now empty groove."Are ye a lord then, me’lord, from some far off kingdom?"A childs voice echoed beside Moruz, and he blinked. Next to him was a wide-eyed child, eyeing the various glass baubles which were studded onto his attire. The warrior remained silent for a few seconds, before replying shortly, "I am no lord..." His exotic voice was firm, deep and slow; his accent seeming slurred. Moruz gave the child a few seconds more of his gaze, before returning to his weapon - he had only one more broken shard to replace.It was at this time that the door burst open and the platinum-haired lady strided in, but at this time - absorbed in his task - Moruz paid her no more heed than a casual glance.

The woman’s unseemly ruckus startled Aethelstan, interrupting an interesting tale related by that pleasant antiquarian fellow. He had planned to retire soon so that he would have ample time to meditate before he rested, but the strange woman appeared quite upset. Perhaps he could assist her, or at least lend an ear so she would stop raving to the entire tavern. Her anger was understandable; even the writings of Holy Andur had little compassion for lawless brigands…

The young priest stepped forward, his sword’s scabbard sharply knocking a local farmer beside the head. “Oh! I’m very sorry! Here, friend, let me pay for your drink,” he blurted out, recalling only too late the meager handful of silver in his pouch.

As the yokel took him up on his offer, he ruefully handed a few coins to the proprietor and looked for the woman that had just raised her voice again in her passion to slay the bandits. “Aha!” he blurted out and strode up to her, unconsciously straightening up a bit, “By St. Senren’s cleft chin, this wrong shall not go avenged! Umm, I mean Unavenged! Allow me to be of assistance!” he asked dramatically. Realizing his gaffe, he reflected that at least he hadn’t rapped anyone else with his sword. Again.

Talia looked critically at the clumsy newcomer. He looked like either an idealist or one of those guys who wanted to be a 'hero,' whatever that was. "You're not going to try to, I don't know, defend my honor, or anything, are you?" she asked suspiciously. She needed all the help she could get, but a guy like that could get annoying.

“Of course I would wish to presume, miss. Umm, I mean Not to presume! Miss, milady, Ummm….” Brother Aethelstan stammered. “Why can’t I talk to women without sounding like an ass?” he wondered to himself.

“Let me try that again: If your honor required defending, which I assume it occasionally does, and you wanted me to defend it, presumably because there were no male relations available, then, of course, I would be glad to be of assistance because I would not want you to suffer from any unfortunate slights against… Ummm. I’m babbling again aren’t I?" he stammered.

As he saw the dubious look on her features, he firmly stated, “No, ma’am” and shut up.

The pickings had been too slim out here on the edge of nowhere. That addle-brained merchant didn't know a third of what he claimed. Unfortunately Vee was also running lean on coin. There were three silver pieces left in his purse and he owed one to the barman for the thin gruel than passed for wine in a place like this. Back home in Nimz, he could have bought a bottle or grappa, unaged raw wine for what he paid for the cup. The grappa would have probably tasted better too.

It would be unlikely that the gnolls would have anything of value, but the gypsy folk knew things, and they didn't often tell them. Sometimes leads like that could be worth more than gold, and perhaps he might get enough shinies, as she had mentioned, to get the hell out of this sinkhole of a town. He made a small bow to the dusky skinned woman, the small beads at the end of his braids clacking together. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Vee Keykold of Nimz, adventurer-upon-return, and traveler of many roads. I would be willing to assist you, milady." He was not one to play honorifics and such, but he knew his face opened alot of doors for him, and he wasnt above spreading a little flattery.

He would have to make note of telling the priest to not try so hard, that and find out if his vows covered that whole unpleasant chastity bit.

Noyle remembered that night long after he left Ganse behind. Different survivors remembered things differently, when asked to recollect the diastrous events that evening. Noyle remembered best, he had decided to himself.

Xaren...he thought as he ran away from the inn that night. Xaren were not unkown in Ganse. Meaner cousins of the Xorn. One of the mysteries of the Worlds Below. Ever since the...events in the Phosphorus mine ten years ago, they have been digging and clawing their way through the porous earth, looking for metal and flesh in equal measures. Too many people. Strong vibrations. They had tunneled from below and into the Harpy's Kettle. It was 'over capacity' that night. Why werent people better prepared Noyle mused to himself. Well, the last attack on that other empty inn, according to his records occurred three long years ago. People forget, get lazy, and dain to live with risk...

He was closest to the inn door that evening. That is what saved him and allowed him to glance upon the bizarre scene as it unfolded. Everything happened so quickly. Some said it began, when that wily little man with the rattling sabre, noticed his ale was foaming at the head, and said so. Others claimed it was when that young whelp, Percy was it, asked the mysterious glass-clad warrior, why the glass studs, shards and beads of his armor were suddenly 'jingling'. Indeed, Noyle thougt back, the glass hummed with a muted, but pleasant cacophany for a few long seconds. Several folks stopped in mid-chant to listen. It sounded to Noyle like a melodic hillsnake's rattle. Even the group at the bar looked over, drawn by the gentle chimes. The warrior himself had a confused look on his face, as he was glancing at his own arm.

But it really began when it began. The first beast burst through the brick and wooden wall, beside the firepit, near the smoldering ox. The first casualty was the man turning the meat at the time. Goynas Teff himself. He stumbled as a brick hit his head and fell backwards into the flames. No one heard him scream.

The mostrous juggernaut lumbered forward, tables and chairs crashing in its stead. Nine feet high if an inch, shaped like a vertical pointing stone toad or fish, propped up by a bizarre tripod of slow-moving stony flesh. Three long arm-like appendages extended from its torso, grasping at the air with steel-like, three-pronged claws. The creature's grotesque body was studded with rough-hewn pebbles and minerals, as if it had slumbered for an eon and calcified. Its worst feature was its three jawed maw, facing directly upwards, from the top of its head-like upper torso, chomping and clacking for nourishment. The three grasping arms flailed wildly at any moving, and even unmoving target as if at the maws' behest. Noyle saw one unfortunate woman swept up by two of the three clawed arms and dragged quickly toward the grotesque mouth. She screamed as it bit off a huge chunk of her leg, and threw her back down against a table, near the glass-clad Warrior, like a shark sampling its upcoming feast.

Noyle paled at the memory. Patrons had fled in a chaotic mob toward the exit at the sudden emergence of the first creature, but just as suddenly a second(!) creature emerged from the center of the taproom's floor, bursting forth in an explosion of dirt, mud, and wood. Now many were trapped. Screams rang out. Awful screams. Noyle memorized several things at once that night, seconds before he turned to flee with the rest, who had managed to make it to the door. Noyle wasnt a hero. He wasnt going to stick around. But what he saw, he remembered.

--Gilk the larder-boy ran up the steps from the cellar and shouted "XAREN!". He was a little too late. He ran back down and a few folks tried to follow him.

--The Glass-sharded warrior was the only one to not flee the Xaren at first. He was holding his ground, his great barbed spear facing the creature as it neared him, still ten feet away. Surprisingly, the little boy did not run, but lept to a table directly behind the stranger and was seemingly reaching for the man's head-circlet! Brazen boyo! But what kind of child would do that, Noyle still pondered long after that night. Had he no fear?

--Meanwhile, thirty feet away, he noticed the group by the bar, that flaxen haired, angry beauty and her new suitors, were completely cut off from the exit. A shame. She was a beauty, Noyle thought.

Noyle had briefly glanced at Teff's row of billy-clubs and mallets. those would prove more useful than blades he warned no one but himself. Nah, he wasnt a hero. He turned and ran.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Talia vaulted backwards onto the bar. Her first priority was to get as far away from whatever the hell this nasty thing was as she could. She retreated along it's length to put some room between her and it, then reached for her fans. They had been tucked safely away inside her shirt, but they came out now, and she snapped them open. It was too crowded in here to throw, and it was unlikely they'd do much good anyway. These buggers looked like they had some thick hide. She just wanted to be able to defend herself long enough to find a way out. She started looking for windows or anything big enough to get through.

Aerex froze for a fraction of a second before leaping over the bar and ducking behind a fallen barrel of ale. He unsheathed his rapier and crouched, hoping the fell beasts wouldn't see him. Yeah, this is what I need, he thought ruefully. After the monsters didn't seem to immidiately spot him, Aerex peeked between the slats of a shattered barrel to watch the chaos around him.

"In Axtrami's name...!" Moruz uttered beneath his breath, leaping to his feet and brandishing his newly repaired weapon threateningly. A second after he stood, a woman crashed into a table next to him, wailing and clutching a gaping hole in her upper-leg. Ignoring the woman's plight for now, the Ouzquin Dremorix tightened his grip on his Ouzala and tightened his leg muscles, preparing to spring at the odd beast. It was at this time that Moruz felt small, dextrous fingers tighten around the circlet and lift it off his head.Moruz was so absorbed in the lumbering threat in front of him, he had not so much as thought to worry about an outlander child who should be cowering in a corner or bawling his eyes out! Before he could react, Percy had the circlet in his hands and was getting away from the Glass warrior. The loss of his coveted orb caused Moruz to hesitate in his attack. He very nearly left everyone else in the room to chase the thieving little bastard, but after a moments consideration he tightened his grip once more on his weapon and leapt forth, swinging his ouzala in an attempt to saw off one of the arms of the first horrid creature.

Clearly the child wanted the orb for it's value - and he would know that if it was broken it would be worthless. Moruz believed he would have ample time to track down and slaughter Percy once the threat in the tavern was neutralised.

Merciless Hell...Dujek ran off along the counter, seeing others taking their chances at jumping over.HORSE URINEFinally thinking of something Dujek grabbed one of the bottles, hoping that this'd work. Muttering one of the few actual spells that he'd learned in the last couple of years, he felt the bottle getting really cold really quick. That should get enough of the water out of it... I hope. Jumping over the counter he tossed it, and a handful of sparks, at one of the things.

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

As the bar erupted into chaos, Brother Aethelstan was spun about by the fleeing crowd, only to find himself practically face-to-face with one of the hellish earth beasts! “Andur’s Teeth!” he swore, as he frantically tried to disentangle his massive sword’s scabbard from his robes. Blood sprayed across his robes as the massive creature tore into a luckless patron, giving Aethelstan the moment he needed to clear his weapon. He tried to shout the ancient battle-cry of his order, but the words choked in his throat as he beheld the stony thing before him. Eyes wide, he stepped up to the creature and hacked down with his massive weapon.

--Aethelstan smashed his two handed great sword directly against the creature's stony torso. Sparks flew from the blade, and an explosion of rocks and pebbles, careened off the creature. It was difficult to tell for a split second what effect the strike had on the beast, but quickly whirling to face the brave young priest, the creature made a maddening, gurgling sound and lashed out with all three arms at its bold attacker.

--Aerex looked on with morbid fascination. Averting his eyes for one second he noticed a trap door behind the bar, a mere three feet from where he knelt, behind a shattered barrel.

--Talia spied the same door, as well. She also noticed a handful of folks retreating down into the cellar across the taproom.

--Dujek threw his concoction directly at one of the Xaren. The same one the priest had just struck. Missing the creatures mouth by a wide margin, the bottle instead was caught(!) by one of the creature's flailing arms. A second later, a muted boom, and again sparks and stones flew from the creature's "arm". Its appendage, the one that caught the bottle, was now missing two of three claws. One patron, frozen in place in the middle of the taproom, addled by the events, had something strike him in his face and shrieked with pain, as he covered his eyes. The beast payed no attention to the green-cloaked bottle thrower. It still faced the priest, seemingly intent on killing him. At least thats how it seemed to onlookers. Aethelstan noticed something different however. The creature's alien eyes, positioned low on its body beside each of its tripod legs, were wide open now, and stared not at the priest himself, but at his flailing greatsword.

--The second beast, now positioned between the exit and a few screaming patrons, was advancing on the glass-shard warrior. Moruz now had three or four people crowding directly behind him, assuming he would be their best bet at salvation. Between Moruz and the exit stood the stony brute. It attacked, missing, with one swipe of a claw, and striking Moruz in the shoulder with another. Pain, but not unbearable pain, shot through Moruz arm. The warrior yelled a battle cry and struck at the creature's arm. The one which had just drew first blood. He hit home, and once again sparks and debris flew from the Xaren. It was difficult to tell what effect this had on the creature. It looked neither happy to be struck, nor overly concerned.

--waiting on Vee.

--Percy, small and innocuous, slipped through the confusion and ran out the door, nearly crushed by a marauding Xaren in the process but managing to escape.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Aerex turned his head and squinted to avoid the bright explosion and shrapnel. As he did, he spied a trap door under one of the broken ale barrels. Hello there, he thought. Aerex moved toward it, still crouching, and shoved the shattered wood out of the way. With his free hand, Aerex threw open the small door and crawled in feet first.

Moruz merely growled at the sensation of pain as that claw pierced his shoulder, and then grunted and winced at the rough feel of his weapon etching against the creature's hide. Blast! What were the outlanders behind him DOING!? Cowering for his protection? Did they not know how to survive!? Quickly glancing at the three or four people behind him, he bellowed "Fools! Find a weapon and help me out here! Your life is at stake, too!" Moruz waved with one hand to indicate the rows of clubs and maces that lined the walls, before turning once more to the beast before him. Moruz leapt forward once more, thrusting with his spear this time up at the Xaren's enormous eye, which was currently focussed on it's foe.

“I can’t punch through its hide!” Aethelstan complained as he saw how little effect his blade had on the stony juggernaut. Glancing quickly behind him, he fell back from the beast, scrambling up onto one of the tavern’s battered stools and from there, onto the bar. As it advanced. the creature’s strange focus on his sword baffled and worried him. “Why is it staring at my sword?” he asked aloud. Looming over the pursuing creature, he reversed his grip on his cumbersome weapon and prepared to thrust down into the thing’s gaping maw.

“St. Senren, this had better work!” the frightened monastic silently prayed. Focused on his terrifying foe, he didn’t even notice the open trap door mere feet behind him.

Monsters bursting up through the floor, bottle of liquor exploding, things in this sleepy town had decided to get interesting in a hurry. Vee swung out of his seat to prepare his crossbow for a shot at the closest of the xaren. He lifted the crossbow after setting the bolt and took sight on the closest monster. The mirror plated fellow was close to one and it looked like it had already hit him once but he was still standing. Ignoring the screams and panic that was in full swing he took aim at what he hoped was a weak poin in the stony hide of the creature, it's open and exposed eye. The bowstring released, launching the foot long bolt directly at the monster.